Chapter Ten #2
“Over seven years ago. Father and I flew there with my brother’s army buddies to search for him after we lost all contact with him.
We landed in a helicopter on a ridge where we knew he had done his last trek.
There had been a serious avalanche in the area.
After searching for several hours, we found a pair of pants and, in one of the pockets was a map with Hebrew writing.
At that moment, we understood that we had found Amitai.
We discovered his body a few hundred feet away in a rocky area, difficult to access.
We climbed down with ropes and brought his body to a flat surface.
We improvised a stretcher and headed to the nearest village, where a helicopter arrived and flew us to the airport in Kathmandu.
A few days later, we were all back home. ”
She remained silent because she couldn’t find the right words to say.
What could one say? she silently asked herself.
Nothing, she answered herself. “Somehow, Father and I survived this,” he continued, “but, for my mother, it was too much. She was already sick with a kidney disease. After Amitai’s death, her condition quickly worsened.
A year later, she too passed away, and since then it’s just been my father and me. ”
They fell silent and she decided to get straight to the point. “You needn’t be alone anymore, ever. Come back to us. It’s not the same without you.” He looked at her and knew that her honest appeal was too short a rope with which to scramble down from the high branch he had climbed onto.
“Did Weissman send you?” he wanted to know. “He didn’t come with you because he is afraid to ask me himself?”
“He may be afraid, but actually he did come with me. Would you like to hear what he has to say?”
“Perhaps…” he squinted with a serious look on his face, not knowing where this was leading. She dialed Weissman on her cellphone. While waiting for him to answer, she explained to Yiftach that she had come here with Weissman, who was waiting outside in his car.
“Yes, go ahead,” Weissman’s voice came across the speaker, and the fact that the senior attorney had thrown aside polite manners and didn’t even address her by her name hurt her far more than she would have thought. She decided not to dwell on it.
“You can come inside,” she told him in a dry tone.
Weissman entered the house. He was way too quiet and was wearing a Lacoste shirt that was way too pink.
Why is he casually dressed? Could he have taken a day off work just to get me to come back to the office?
Yiftach wondered. The conversation in Max’s living room didn’t last long.
“I made two mistakes in your regard,” Weissman cut straight to the chase.
“The first mistake was that I let myself get involved in this entire thing and promised you that I would talk with Dr. Kena. The second mistake was that I didn’t talk to him after having promised you that I would.
It placed me in a rather uncomfortable situation, look… ” he tried to continue.
“If you’ve come here to try to explain to me that the circumstances have changed,” Yiftach said in a scoffing tone, “then this conversation is pointless.”
“Listen to what he has to say,” Melody interjected.
“Hello.” It was Max, who entered the living room from the narrow hall with small, determined steps.
“This is my father,” Yiftach introduced Max to the guests and they stood up and shook hands with him.
“You’ve come to take him back?”
“The orange juice is delicious!” Melody said to Max. “I understand you grow your own oranges.”
“That’s true… why don’t you join me in the garden? I’m on my way out to pick some fruit.” Melody was happy to accept the old man’s offer and they left the room together.
“Your son has a unique charm. He’s so charismatic,” she said to him as they walked through the grove. “But I’m sure you’ve heard that many times before.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“All I need do is look at the tree to understand the quality of its fruit...” she winked at him.
“Well, young lady, you are absolutely right,” he answered.
“Yiftach is really unique. Now all he has to do is to put some order into his life.” He stood on his toes to reach a nectarine that was begging to be picked.
“And, as a first step,” he went on, as he stretched his body and heaved a sigh, “he must put behind him the story with Nicole—it belongs in the past.” The ripe fruit was finally in his hands.
“Who is Nicole?” She had already heard about her more than once, but now she had a chance to gather more information from a trustworthy source, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip by.
“The woman who was by now supposed to be his wife, and perhaps also the mother of his children. He found her in the arms of another woman on the day he returned home from the States and, since then, everything has gone awry. There was a great love between them.”
“And do you really think that a great love can be so easily dispensed to the distant past and forgotten there?”
“Yes, I’m certain of it. You just have to try the ‘Buddhist monks’ method.’ Have you ever heard that story?”
“I’m not sure…” she said, as they both sat down on an old, peeling wooden bench.
“It’s an ancient story that tells about the journey of two Buddhist monks, a teacher and his pupil, who were walking from one village to the next.
After having walked a great distance, they reached a raging river whose waters spilled over the riverbank.
There they met a frightened and helpless woman who was unable to cross to the other side of the river because of the strong current.
She told them that her infant son was on the other side and, if she didn’t reach him quickly, he might be swept away in the gushing waters and drown.
She asked the monks to help her cross to the other bank.
The pupil—who throughout his life was taught to avoid any contact with the opposite sex and have nothing to do with them—recoiled and refused.
The teacher, on the other hand, answered her affirmatively.
And so the three crossed the raging river—the teacher went first, carrying the woman on his shoulders, and his pupil followed behind.
When they reached the other side, the teacher carefully put the woman down on the ground, took leave of her and, after she had thanked him, he continued on his way. ”
“And what about the pupil?”
“He followed after him. After two hours had passed in an uncomfortable silence, the pupil could no longer contain himself and said to his teacher: ‘You are the one who taught me over many years to avoid any contact with the opposite sex; you are the one who emphasized that I should have nothing to do with them, so how could you do what you just did?’ The teacher looked at his pupil and replied: ‘The difference between the two of us is that I left the woman on the riverbank two hours ago. But you are still thinking about her.’”
Melody smiled. Max was the first person who had managed to cause her to genuinely smile after such a long time. “So what do you recommend that I… I mean… that Yiftach… what do you suggest that he do?” she asked.
“To leave Nicole on the other side of the river and go on with his life,” the old man concluded.
“Anyway,” Yiftach said to Weissman, “it’s too late to correct your first mistake. You already promised me you would talk to Kena. As to the second mistake, you can still do something about it.”
“I already have,” Weissman surprised him. “I spoke with Dr. Kena…” Yiftach’s heart skipped a beat, “…and he agrees.”
Yiftach’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets from excitement.
He leaped up from his armchair in a flash and slammed a fist into his other hand.
“Yes!!” he let out a victor’s roar. Max and Melody—whose arms formed a gondola-like cradle filled with many citrus fruits that were about to drop to the floor—returned to the living room.
“Yiftach,” Weissman continued to speak, “we are now making a pact, and this pact has conditions: You will write and submit the indictment. This stage shouldn’t take long.”
Weissman’s voice was like that of a teacher reprimanding his wayward student.
“However, if it turns out that the defendant, for whatever reason, doesn’t exist or simply refuses to show up at court, we’re backing off.
We won’t insist on doing something that can’t be done, nor make fools of ourselves before the entire world.
If things don’t work out, all of us—and that includes you—will abandon the idea and you will absolutely not repeat your scene of packing boxes. Am I clear?”
“As clear as a bright sun in a blue sky,” Yiftach said as his eyes met Melody’s, and Max observed them each from the side.
***
“How does this work, actually?” Tammi interrupted Ro’el’s reading. “I mean, when is an indictment submitted and what is the significance of such a move?”
“Let’s take a step back for a moment,” Ro’el sought to provide an academic response, “and then we’ll progress one step at a time.
The first stage in a criminal process is that of filing a complaint.
Everyone is entitled to file a complaint in any one of the many police stations throughout the country.
Then the second stage follows. After a complaint has been filed, it is the job of the police to open an investigation.
The stage of investigation is actually the stage in which the police need to find suspects and interrogate them in connection with the offense, mostly after they’ve already questioned and taken a statement from the victim, who is usually also the complainant.
In some cases, suspects may be detained or arrested in regard to the investigation. ”
“And then those criminals can be thrown into jail?”
“One step at a time. Now we come to the third stage. Once the investigation is completed, the case is transferred to the relevant prosecutor, depending on the type of offense and its severity. For example, the case can reach the State Attorney’s Office or the police prosecution unit.
If the prosecutor thinks that the investigative material in the case given to him contains sufficient evidence to uphold the charge, and public interest justifies it, then the fourth stage follows, which is the stage of prosecution. ”
“I’ve noticed that in the news sometimes the criminal is referred to as the ‘suspect’ and sometimes as the ‘defendant.’ What’s the difference?”
“The answer to that lies precisely in the fourth stage. When a person is brought to court on a criminal charge, he is served with an indictment. Up to this point, he is considered a ‘suspect’ and beyond this point, he is a ‘defendant.’ The indictment is served by the State, which determines the charge, based on the severity of the offense. Usually, but not in our story, indictments are filed in the Magistrate’s Court or in the District Court. ”
“So what happens in our story?”
“I thought that such a unique case—that carries such extensive and deep repercussions for all of mankind—needs to be brought before the Supreme Court, that is, the Supreme Court will be the first instance to hear the case.”
“Interesting. Okay, so we’ve reached the fourth stage, which is bringing the case to court after an indictment has been served. So what now?”
“Now? Now we go to trial.”